


idiot billionaire superhero father

by killerqueenwrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Endgame what Endgame, Gen, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is an idiot, and add nanotech, but he's trying his best, handwavey science, to get angst, you take the palladium poisoning from iron man 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: Tony Stark is dying. He’s avoided this once already, catching the palladium poisoning before it could turn serious, but now…It's a year after the defeat of Thanos and Tony's technology has turned against him. Luckily, he has a best friend, a sneaky AI and a stubborn kid on his side.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, background Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Relationship
Comments: 26
Kudos: 152
Collections: The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	idiot billionaire superhero father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elwenn_dreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwenn_dreaming/gifts).



> i went with the prompt 'Peter finds sick/drunk/injured Tony who is trying to hide it' and added a bit of IM2 feels to spice it up. i hope you enjoy!

It’s a beautiful day in New York City. The sun is shining. The grass is green. Tony Stark is dying.

It’s been a little over a year since they beat Thanos – together, just like Steve had said – in a Wakandan forest. Anticlimactic, almost, for something that had haunted Tony since the day the Avengers were formed. A quiet end to his worst nightmare, punctuated only by the swing of Thor’s axe, of Nebula’s sword.

Tony had worn his nanotech suit that day, as had Peter for the first time. Peter’s had saved him, kept bad injuries from being much worse, but Tony’s…hadn’t.

Tony had been the one to scoop up the gauntlet from the Titan’s severed arm, still in his suit. Bruce had been next, taking it and tucking it gently under his arm. The two of them took care of the Stones in the weeks that followed, along with Shuri, Wanda and Carol. It was too late by the time he realised that further miniaturising his arc reactor to fit it inside his housing unit destabilised it just enough, just enough that being exposed to gamma radiation for a long period of time turned it against him. He’s avoided this once already, catching the palladium poisoning before it could turn serious, but now…

Now the radiation is spreading. And it’s killing him. He’s dying.

But he can’t take it off, because what if Thanos comes back? What if he isn’t really dead? What if he gets hold of Peter again, wraps huge hands around his throat, slams him into the ground? What if he wants revenge?

Morgan is here now. Tony has a daughter. Peter can at least defend himself, but a four-month-old can’t. She needs Tony, more than anyone ever has before. No, his chestpiece is staying on.

And he’s tried everything he can possibly think of. He’s done everything he did the first time and more, but this – this is something different altogether.

His phone buzzes on his workbench, shaking him from his thoughts.

_“Mr Parker has texted you for the fourth time in ten minutes, Boss.”_

“Tell him it’s not a good time, Fri.”

_“So what you’ve been replying with for the past month?”_

“I don’t pay you to be sassy.”

_“You don’t pay me at all.”_ FRIDAY pauses. _“If I may, I believe sharing your condition will be beneficial to both you and Mr Parker, not to mention–“_

“You may not.” Telling Peter what’s going on will be the opposite of beneficial. And Morgan is four months old. Four months. She deserves at least one parent with a level head, even if that’s soon going to be one parent. Full stop. “Check again.” He pricks his finger on the little needle, waits until the device flashes up a value.

_“Blood toxicity: sixty-three percent.”_

“So that’s…more…than I was expecting.”

_“The spread is accelerating faster than our estimations.”_

“No shit,” Tony sighs, and turns towards the fridge in the corner of his lab.

_“Boss–“_

“Mute, Fri.”

* * *

_“Mr Stark has replied to your messages,”_ Karen says into silence, breaking Peter’s moody contemplation of the New York skyline.

He tries to quell the rising hope; he’s been disappointed too often recently. “Let me guess: he’s busy.”

Karen hesitates. _“He says it’s not a good time right now.”_

“Of course it’s not.” Peter scoffs, kicks his feet against the edge of the building he’s sitting on – and instantly feels terrible for being such a brat about it. “I mean, he’s got a baby now. Right? He’s just – he probably has a lot on his plate.”

_“Probably,”_ Karen agrees. _“Would you like me to respond?”_

“No, no. Um, can you text Happy? Just – ask him if everything’s okay with Mr Stark.”

_“Done. You have also not replied to Colonel Rhodes’ message from this morning.”_

“Just say – no, send him a thumbs-up.”

_“Anything else?”_

“No.”

_“Done. Anything else, Peter?”_

“Send Mrs Stark those pictures I took of Morgan last time I was over. And find something good for me to take care of.”

* * *

“What the hell…?”

Tony opens bleary eyes to see Rhodey staring down at him. Right. He’s on the floor. “Intruder alert,” he slurs, rolling onto all fours.

“I’ve had Pepper asking me where the hell you are, the kid asking me and Happy if you’re okay – are you drunk?”

“Only a little.” In all honesty, Tony wishes he were. It wouldn’t feel as bad as this does.

“Fuck’s sake, Tony. You can’t do this. You have a kid – two, actually. You know the kid keeps asking Happy what he’s done wrong? Why you never see him anymore? He thinks ’cause you have Morgan now, you don’t want him around.”

“Well, that’s…bullshit.”

“And what the hell else is he supposed to think?”

It’s supposed to make this _better_. It’s supposed to make sure that, when Tony does go, Peter doesn’t feel as attached. All of them, actually. No one mourns an asshole.

“Hey, steady.” Rhodey’s voice softens, suddenly concerned. “You okay? What’s going on with you, man?”

“Nothing’s going on, ‘m fine.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.” Rhodey helps him to his feet and to a chair. “Jeez, man, when was the last time you showered?”

“‘M being bullied.” Tony settles in his chair, catching Rhodey staring at him out of the corner of his eye. “What’re you looking at?”

“I’m looking at you,” Rhodey says gently. “You’re tryna do this lone gunslinger act, and it’s unnecessary. You got so many people that’d help you if you just asked.”

“I don’t – need help–“

“That’s bullshit, Tones. Look at you. You barely talk to your wife, or your baby daughter, or the kid you love so much you nearly obliterated Thanos for laying a hand on him. You’re a fucking mess.”

“I said I’m fine,” Tony insists. He doesn’t need to drag anyone else into this. No one needs to know. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Every day, I believe you less and less.” Rhodey sighs. “Can you at least talk to the kid? He’s only replying to me with emojis now.”

“Oh, yikes, that is bad.”

“Yeah.”

“Uh, okay, I’ll get him over soon. Suit could do with an upgrade, anyway.” Tony isn’t leaving Peter with anything but the best.

“Holding you to that,” Rhodey says, and finally, finally starts to leave. “If I wanted something cute and loyal trailing around, I’d have gotten a puppy. So would Happy. He’s your kid, all right?”

Tony watches him go, only dropping his smile when the door slides shut behind him, and sighs. _Shit_.

* * *

Rhodey holds his smile until he’s out of the lab and the door slides shut behind him.

Something’s wrong. Very very wrong.

“FRIDAY?”

_“Colonel Rhodes.”_

“Am I able to override Tony’s orders to you, in any circumstances?”

_“My primary protocol is the wellbeing of Boss and his family,”_ she says.

“So if something Tony was doing was against his own interests, I could tell you to do something different?”

_“My primary protocol is the wellbeing of Boss and his family.”_

“What does that mean?”

This time, there’s a trace of a smile in FRIDAY’s voice. _“I have already contacted Mr Parker.”_

* * *

“Mr Stark?”

_No, no, no._

“I got your text. Are you here? FRIDAY let me in – oh my God!”

_Shit_. Tony rolls out from under his desk, hoping he looks at least half normal.

“Oh, _wow_ , you’re alive. You looked, like, dead–“

“Who let you in here?”

“I just told you FRIDAY did. You texted me to come over, remember?”

“Uh, no. I did not. Fri?”

_“I took the liberty, Boss. I also let Mr Parker into the lab.”_

Tony growls. “I specifically told you–“

_“My overriding protocol is the wellbeing of you and your family.”_

“Well, you’re fired,” Tony mutters as he stumbles to his feet, Peter shadowing him all the way over to the couch in the corner.

“Mr Stark, you’re really not okay,” the kid says. He pauses, then starts talking again all in a rush. “And I’ll leave as soon as we’re done, you won’t ever have to see me again if you don’t want to, but can I please help?”

It dawns on Tony then, in his stupid little pea brain, that Peter isn’t mildly concerned, or worried. He’s not even annoyed at being kept at arm’s length, like he should be. He’s terrified. _For_ Tony.

“Please don’t say you’re good because you’re clearly not. Happy and Rhodey are worried about you. May said you haven’t replied to any of her texts. What’s wrong?”

And shit, Peter isn’t his therapist, but he’s brilliantly smart and kind and he’s _Tony’s_. “I’m sick, Pete.”

“Like…” Peter frowns. “You have a cold, or something?”

Tony laughs, taps his housing unit. “No, kid. This – this is making me sick.”

“So take it off!” Peter says instantly.

If only it were that simple. “Too late now, buddy. And I like to be prepared.”

“Is this why you’ve been hiding down here? Are you trying to fix it?”

Well. How does Tony tell him he was being a dick on purpose and hiding in his lab waiting to die? “I…don’t know if it can be fixed, Pete.”

“Have you tried?”

“Listen. Peter. This is…Infinity Stone stuff. Space magic. Cosmic power. I don’t know if there’s anything left _to_ try.”

“It was the radiation, wasn’t it?” Peter says, cogs in his brain visibly turning. “From the Stones? Doctor Banner is fine, because he’s pretty much made of gamma radiation. Wanda and Captain – Carol got their powers from the Stones. You – why were you still wearing your suit? We won. He’s gone. You didn’t need it anymore.”

“But what if I did? What if I do? At least this way, I’m prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“Whatever comes next.”

“What if there isn’t a _next_? What if we’re done?”

“There’s always a bigger fish,” Tony intones.

“Don’t use _Star Wars_ against me,” Peter snaps. “FRIDAY, can you send a message to all these people? Princess Shuri, Doctor Banner–“

“Pete, what are you doing?”

“–Wanda, umm – oh, Doctor Strange, Captain Danvers, any of the Guardians if you can–“

“Peter–“

“Shut up, you clearly can’t be trusted to make adult decisions. Tell them what’s happening, how long it’s been going on, and see if they know anything that can help.”

_“Done, Mini Boss.”_

“Thank you.”

Tony glowers at the ceiling. “Your treachery shall not go unpunished.”

_“Noted, Boss.”_

Peter folds his arms and sticks his chin out. He looks like a puppy, but a stubborn puppy that could probably bench Tony with one hand if he really tried and – oh, God, his eyes are watering. Why is he crying?

“I’m sorry,” Tony offers.

“What, were you just sitting here waiting to die?”

“Of course not. I was doing plenty of brooding.”

Okay, that’s a scowl.

“Too soon for jokes, maybe. I apologise. One thing it did give me a chance to do is get my affairs in order. Needed to catch up with that, anyway. Added you and Morgan in, of course.”

“Me?” Peter’s arms drop to his sides in shock. “What–? No, that’s not the point here. Stop deflecting. I’m in charge now.”

“Yessir.”

“Give me your housing unit. I want to analyse it.”

Tony hesitates. This is his safety net, his way of keeping his family safe. He hasn’t taken it off in almost a year.

“Hey,” Peter says, as if reading his mind, “you’re with Spider-Man. War Machine’s down the hall. So is Pepper fricking Potts. If anything happens, we got this.”

So Tony smiles, gently detaches his chestpiece, and places it in Peter’s outstretched hand.

* * *

“Run that again,” Peter demands.

_“Simulation has a forty-three percent chance of success.”_

Peter groans, sinking back into his chair. Across the lab, Mr Stark swipes a holographic screen away with such force that had it been solid, it would have smashed a dent into the wall.

“So the simulation to heal the damage to the CNS has a ninety-eight percent chance. The simulation to clean up the radiation poisoning in his blood has a ninety-seven-point-five percent chance. But run them together in any way and they fuck each other up.”

_“In summary, yes.”_

“And you’re sure the kid’s suit doesn’t have the same problem?” It’s at least the tenth time Mr Stark has asked the question.

_“The Iron Spider is not powered by a miniature reactor like yours. Furthermore, Peter did not spend nearly as much time exposed to the Stones as you did, and certainly not while wearing his suit.”_

“Good, okay. Awesome.” Mr Stark stands up quickly. “Gotta go to the bathroom, Pete.”

“Again?”

“Be right back.”

Peter puts his head in his hands.

It’s worse than they thought. Mr Stark had only noticed the blood poisoning from the radiation, but together, they’d soon spotted another problem. The corrupted nanobots, linked to Mr Stark’s brainwaves, had started attacking his nervous system. And every time Peter thinks he’s found a solution, the simulations show that they don’t work, or one works but the other doesn’t, or – most recently – the cures cancel each other out.

Long story short: Mr Stark is dying. His own tech is killing him. He’s already laughed at the irony of it, but Peter can’t quite see any humour here.

“What’s going wrong here, FRIDAY?” he asks quietly. “Why – what are we doing wrong?”

_“In the most recent simulation, the problem occurred when the Extremis, intended for Mr Stark’s central nervous system, met the lithium serum that is supposed to clean his blood. For lack of a better word, they obliterated each other.”_

“And given what we know about Extremis and the stability of lithium…”

_“It would be explosive, yes.”_

“Shit.”

_“Yes.”_

“Okay, okay, um…” Peter taps his hands on the desk. “Any way to inject directly into the brain stem without, like, paralysing him?”

_“Even with the steadiest hands, I wouldn’t recommend it.”_

Peter groans. “We need something that can carry it through the blood without interacting with the lithium, like – you know, like, targeted painkillers that don’t break down until they reach – oh!”

_“Oh?”_

“I just – okay!” Peter stands up so fast he almost falls off his chair. “I gotta – Mr Stark!”

* * *

Tony spits another string of bile into the toilet, ignoring the streaks of red, and sits back against the wall with a grunt. He’s been feeling worse lately, like the poisoning is stepping it up a notch. Never mind whatever the fuck is going on in his nervous system.

And, as if that wasn’t bad enough, he now has Peter running himself ragged as well. What kind of man is he, putting this on his kid? They’ve been practically living in the lab for almost a week now, and although they have two solutions, putting them together successfully still seems far off. Too far off for him, maybe.

“Mr Stark?”

“One second!” he calls back, and spits again.

There’s a pause. “Are you throwing up?”

“No–“ The door slides open. “Oh, for God’s sake, FRIDAY.”

“How long?”

Tony tries to climb to his feet, but has to catch himself on the sink, “It’s not a big deal–“

“How long has this been going on? Dr Banner said I need to log all your symptoms.”

“We don’t know what this is even a symptom _of_ , okay? So it’s not like we can decide which thing to inject first based on that. Not that they’re cooperating with each other, anyway.” He frowns when Peter’s face brightens suddenly. “What?”

“I think I found a way.”

“You – what?”

“Both these solutions will work, right? The lithium and the Extremis? But the problem was that the Extremis had to go through your blood to get to your spinal column, and that’s where it would react with the lithium serum.”

“Right.”

Peter nods, and starts talking faster and faster, the words spilling out. “And bloodstream injections aren’t direct enough, but the risk involved with injecting straight into your spine – not worth it. So I thought maybe we could get nanobots to carry it. They can release when they’re told to, not before, and we can avoid them reacting altogether. We inject the nanites, and they can travel into your spinal column, like – like targeted painkillers.”

“But my nanobots did this,” Tony says.

Peter shakes his head. “The nanobots with a corrupted power source did this. If we can make some more–“

“They won’t make it worse–“

“–and won’t affect the serum cleaning up your blood at the same time!” Peter finishes, beaming all over his face.

“You,” Tony says, “are fucking brilliant, you know that? Brilliant.” He clasps Peter’s cheeks and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Genius kid. A prodigy.”

“I’m not really–“

“If you’re not a genius, what does that make me? Billionaire philanthropist? Not nearly as good.” Tony kisses him again, this time on the top of his head. “Okay. Back to the lab. Lead the way, Mr Innovator. You know, you might have just revolutionised medicine.”

“Okay, now you’re exaggerating.”

“I am not,” Tony says cheerfully, “but that’s a conversation for another time. I’ve got all the time in the world to embarrass you now. I’m gonna hire a plane to fly over your graduation – no, the Iron Legion. No doubt about who’s behind that one. Big banner saying ‘Peter Parker is a genius prodigy who revolutionised the use of nanotech’–“

“I think Wakanda might have something to say about that.”

“Did Princess Shuri think of this?”

“They’re probably doing this in some capacity already–“

“But not like this. You’ve been working with Extremis, Pete.”

“I really hope this works,” Peter whispers, and Tony stops.

“Hey,” he says gently, “if it doesn’t, we have time to find something else. You’re onto a great idea either way. Brilliant.”

“How much time?” Peter says, stubbornly avoiding Tony’s gaze. “Because if – you can’t – after everything – Mr _Stark_ –“

“I know,” Tony soothes. How like him to get so caught up in his own jubilation that he forgets how hard this is on everyone around him. Especially Peter. “But I have a good feeling. And every faith in you. Okay?”

“Yep,” Peter says. Liar. “Yeah. Awesome.”

“All right. Let’s go.”

* * *

“You got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, let me just–“

“Hey, take a deep breath.”

Peter does as he’s told.

“You’re good,” Tony says gently. “You got this.”

“Sorry,” Peter says. His hands are shaking. Why can’t they stop shaking? “I just – needles–“

“I know.”

“And – if it doesn’t work–“

“Ninety-nine-point-five chance of success.”

“What if we’re wrong? What if FRIDAY’s wrong?”

Mr Stark’s hand clasps his, warm and comforting. “If it doesn’t work, the worst thing that will happen is it doesn’t work. And we have time.”

“Okay.”

“You got this, Spider-Man.”

Peter nods again, pressing the needle into Mr Stark’s shoulder and pushing the plunger. “Sorry – sorry.”

“Nice job. Number two?”

“Okay,” Peter says again, relieved when his voice comes out a little stronger. “Yeah. Number two. You ready?”

“Hit me.”

One injection later, and it’s done.

“Okay,” Mr Stark says. “Just gotta wait now.”

“Just wait. Yeah.”

“Couch time, let’s go.” Mr Stark tugs him over to the couch in the corner and sits down. “Talk to me. You’re spiralling.”

“No, I just – what if I hadn’t come? What would’ve happened?”

“Is there any universe in which you or Rhodey or Pepper don’t show up to knock some sense into my thick skull? Barring that, Happy or May?

Peter manages a smile. “Probably not.”

“Well, then.”

“Well, then,” he parrots.

Mr Stark mock-scowls at him and relaxes into the couch. “Hey, you just saved Iron Man’s life. What a thing for your resume.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s why I did it.”

“I know that’s not why you did it.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Because it wasn’t. Because I – you’re an idiot. By the way.”

“I’m told, regularly.”

“‘Cause I know what it’s like growing up without parents,” Peter says, “or losing one. You can have all the family in the world, but there’s always something…gone. And I didn’t want to do that again. I didn’t want that for Morgan.”

Mr Stark watches him for a moment, lips pressed together, something indescribably sad in his eyes. “Well,” he says eventually, “good thing I have your big brain around to help me out.”

“Because you’re an idiot.”

“Of course. Idiot billionaire.”

“Superhero,” Peter adds.

“Idiot billionaire superhero. And father.” Mr Stark nods. “Yeah, I’ll take that. Indebted to Spider-Man, best superhero ever.”

“I want that in writing,” Peter says. “Put it on my suit. In my Twitter bio. Yelp review for Spider-Man. I want that quote attributed to Tony Stark for the rest of time.”

“Well, tough, because only you heard me say that.” Mr Stark pauses. “And FRIDAY, who clearly can’t be trusted. Traitor.”

_“Anytime, Boss.”_

Peter huffs in amusement. They sit in silence for a long moment.

“Hey, Fri,” Mr Stark says. “Blood toxicity check, please.” He pulls the small device from his pocket and presses his thumb into it.

_“Blood toxicity, forty-one percent, and, it seems, falling. The neurological damage has not deteriorated further, which suggests the modified Extremis particles are working.”_

Peter blinks, hardly daring to believe it. “It…worked?”

“It worked,” Mr Stark repeats. “It worked.”

“Holy shit, yes!” Peter goes to leap off the sofa, but arms grab his shoulders and pull him in to a tight embrace. “Oof! Okay–“

“You are amazing,” Mr Stark says in his ear. “The best. Absolute best.”

“I just helped.” Peter closes his eyes, melts into the hug. _It worked it worked it worked._

“ _Just_ nothing. This was you, all right? All you.”

“Mostly me.”

“God help us if anyone ever plagiarises your work,” Mr Stark mutters. He kisses Peter’s cheek before pulling back. “Thank you. And don’t say anytime, because we’re never doing this again.”

“No.”

“Up there with the worst few weeks of my life.”

“Absolutely.”

“Do you want pizza for dinner?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

**Author's Note:**

> make sure to check out the rest of the fics in this collection!
> 
> i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. i've also made a twitter, @killerqueenao3, if any of you want to talk to me there (it's mostly pictures of my dog). thank you for reading!


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